


pleas/please

by orphan_account



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Begging, Idiots in Love, Kinktober, M/M, Post-Time Skip, established relationship (sort of)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-22 06:43:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20869889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Kinktober Day 2: begging (Felix/Sylvain)





	pleas/please

Just because they’re -  _ whatever  _ they are now, whatever you call it when you haven’t put a label on it but still sleep in each other’s beds more nights than not - doesn’t mean Felix is going to go any easier on Sylvain when it comes to sparring.

(“The enemy isn’t going to hesitate just because they’re  _ fond  _ of you,” he’d told him, spitting  _ fond  _ like it’s a mouthful of poison, like it pained him just to say it, and Sylvain had grinned, slung an arm over his shoulders - “Aw, Fee, you’re fond of me?”

“You’ve grown on me,” Felix had admitted tersely. “Like a fungus.”

“I’ll take it.”)

Five years of clearing ne’er-do-wells out of House Gautier territory and assisting the royal army have filled Sylvain’s form up and out - he’s got arm muscles Felix doesn’t even know the proper  _ names  _ for - but the difference in their builds has never stopped him before. If an enemy combatant in full-body plate mail isn’t a challenge to Felix’s speed and pinpoint-accurate blade-work, Sylvain in his lightweight training clothes certainly isn’t, and he’s hardly broken a sweat in the time it takes him to pin the larger man down. It doesn’t help that - annoyingly - Sylvain doesn’t even seem to be giving it his all, which might be part of the reason Felix knocks him to the floor quite so forcefully, knocking him off-balance with a feint to the side before driving the dulled point of his sword into his chest.

With a quick shift of his training sword, he sends Sylvain’s wooden lance clattering away across the floor, leaving him empty-handed and breathing heavy - less from exertion and more from Felix’s bony knee digging into his sternum.

“Alright, you win,” he says, all lazy smiles and amusement. “Lemme up.”

Felix drums his fingers against his thigh, considering. “Hm.”

“Or are you just going to sit there and gloat?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

He would never have allowed himself this sort of indulgence before ( _ how sad _ , a little voice in him says,  _ to consider a simple touch indulgence _ ) but times have changed - the world has changed. He and Sylvain have, too. So he allows himself to reach down, smooth Sylvain’s hair, his hand trailing along his jawline to rest over his throat.

“You’re lucky it’s just me,” he mutters. “An enemy could have killed you five times over by now.”

He wonders if maybe he shouldn’t take those words back, the moment they pass his lips - he’s trying, damn it, because what if the last thing he says to Sylvain before the world crashes down around them again is something typically barbed and cold? - but instead of an eyeroll, a  _ yeah, yeah _ , in response, he’s met with something else:

Sylvain says his name -  _ Felix _ , more breath than word, and his fingers curl over Felix’s wrist, pressing his hand down against his own throat.  _ Oh _ .

“Felix,” he says again, lower now; his other hand wraps around the back of Felix’s thigh, dragging him closer, and -  _ oh _ , Felix thinks again,  _ oh, he really likes this _ , and he can feel  _ every inch _ of how much. “Please.”

“Please what?” His eyes dart to the closed training grounds door, half-expecting to find someone staring there, but it’s just the two of them; no one’s awake this early (“ _ no one in their right mind _ ,” he can practically hear Sylvain groan) that isn’t already occupied with more pressing wartime business that wouldn’t bring them here. “Please… get up?”

“ _ No _ .” Sylvain says it so forcefully that Felix can’t help but let out a quiet bark of laughter. “Please- touch me.”

That really shouldn’t have the effect on Felix that it does, but… he’s just finding they’re both full of all sorts of surprises, today. He presses his fingers ever-so-slightly more against Sylvain’s throat, experimentally. “I am touching you.”

“ _ Felix _ .”

“Ask me again,” Felix says -  _ Goddess _ , this shouldn’t come so easily to him, should it? Is there something wrong with him, that it feels like the most natural thing in the world to have his (formerly) skirt-chasing idiot of a childhood friend beneath him, and not only that, to be all but asking him to  _ beg _ ? “And I’ll think about it.”

Sylvain’s throat works beneath his fingers as he swallows, his words coming out half-strained. “Touch me.”

He raises an eyebrow, doing his best _ I-could-give-a-shit _ glance. (He’s very practiced at that one.)

“ _ Please _ ,” Sylvain adds, his fingers tightening their grip, and it’s a good thing that’s all Felix had been waiting to hear, because that one word, said in that pleading tone, is enough to make his resolve  _ snap. _

“Since you asked so  _ nicely _ ,” Felix says, all flash of sharp canines as his mouth curls up into a one-sided smile, and Sylvain, at least this once, knows better than to make some smart comment like  _ since when did you care about nice _ ?

Well… maybe he doesn’t know better, but his mouth is otherwise occupied, and that’s more than good enough, Felix thinks.

**Author's Note:**

> as usual, here's my [twitter](http://twitter.com/dimifeli) link and my obligatory yell of "PLEASE COME TALK TO ME ABOUT GAY THREE HOUSES SHIT."


End file.
